


A Series of Implausible Events

by charliescastiel



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chance Meetings, Destiny, Fate, Fluff, M/M, New York City, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliescastiel/pseuds/charliescastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Sebastian have never met, but they are fated to over and over. Set in New York city, around six years after graduation, Kurt is a young freelance fashion designer who works in a quirky coffee shop for extra cash, while Sebastian works in a cute little bookshop on 73rd Street.<br/>Both feel lost and a little broken, yet somehow manage to keep finding each other in the most bizarre places in a city of eight million people. This is the story of how their relationship develops when they let destiny take control, and it might just be the greatest thing that's ever happened to them if they can just find the courage to let the other in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is something I originally worked on about a year ago for the Kurt Hummel Big Bang and of course for many personal reasons never finished, despite coming close. Recently my beta read over it and loved it so so much that she convinced me to keep writing bc apparently the world needs to see it. So that's what I'm going to do.  
> I already have around ten chapters written, so you can expect pretty frequent updates (at least for a while ;)).  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what your thoughts are. Much love.

Kurt didn’t know if he believed in fate, or destiny, or soul mates. A part of him liked to think that maybe it wasn’t all random, and that two souls were meant to be for forever and always. After all, no one could resist a story of true love, right?

Sebastian thanked every god damn star in the sky that they hadn’t begun this crazy fated journey back when they both lived in Ohio. He was certain with every fibre of his being that Kurt would have absolutely despised him, and Sebastian would despise him right back, being the ignorant, cocky jerk he was.

He didn’t know just how close they had actually come though. There were, in fact, twelve times they could have met, but didn’t. And four of those were just in the Lima Bean.

When they were six, they both visited the same park nearly every day for the entire summer. Sebastian ‘king of the monkey bars’ Smythe stood proud at the top of the hill, ordering about the younger, smaller, lesser children to fetch him ice creams and pebbles and branches to fake sword fight with. That wasn’t really six year old Kurt’s scene, so he kept to himself near the sandboxes and swings in the hidden corner of the park until the day when they eventually conquered that too, and Kurt decided it was just better to play at home.

When they were eight years old, they sat directly across from each other in the emergency room. Kurt with a sprained wrist from his first ever journey without stabilizers on his bicycle, Sebastian with a bruised eye as a result of running into a door frame and knocking himself unconscious after being chased around their house by his older and much more intimidating (at the time) brother.

They were even seen in adjacent rooms.

Three years later the two were stuck in the same traffic jam on the highway out of Lima, their cars were next to each other for forty minutes and neither of them so much at glanced at the other, Sebastian too preoccupied with his Gameboy, Kurt doodling anything and everything he could see in his sketchpad, everything except the car to the left.

For a brief time, they even lived on the same street, three doors apart. Sebastian’s family relocated to Paris for two years after his mother had received a job offer just a week after Kurt’s family moved into their bigger house, one where everyone got their own space. Whilst Kurt was inside unpacking the last few boxes, the Smythe's truck was pulling up. At the same time they left to take their last steps out of their old home, the contents of the box Kurt had been carrying fell through, taking him a good ten minutes to gather up all the mess, Sebastian taking one last look back, stepping into the truck and out of sight.

By the time he came back out to help with the first bit of furniture, the Smythe’s car was pulling already around the corner.

In his junior year, Kurt took a trip to Dalton Academy where he befriended Blaine Anderson, confident, attractive, dreamy Warbler. He transferred for a semester but had to pull out when his parents couldn’t afford to pay for the tuition fees and give Kurt his best chance for a New York coloured future at the same time. His contact with the Dalton world drifted slowly away, as did his friendship and potential first relationship with Blaine. It had taken him longer than he thought to adjust to the idea of a uniform, to not being afraid every time he turned a corner, he’d never felt more relaxed. But just when he was really beginning to settle in, it was all taken away from him. He had to remind himself every morning that it was for the greater good. Kurt thought it would never stop hurting.

Sebastian joined the Warblers that fall.

The next time had such potential to be that moment where everything changes, but it didn't stick. Sebastian accidentally called Kurt’s phone number whilst trying to ring another friend. He answered after the third ring, his brow furrowed at the unknown number, a note of confusion and anticipation in his tone as he said “hello?” The first words he ever heard Kurt say were “sorry, not this guy. But I hope you find him, g’bye.”

He’d typed the last digit of the number wrong because his hand slipped.

They did compete against each other at regionals the year that the New Directions placed first at Nationals, but Kurt still felt too awkward watching Blaine and the Warblers perform without him, so he ducked outside for their set.

The last time was a few years later when they were both in the same diner just off Broadway. Kurt was working, Sebastian was out with friends. It was a Friday night, close to Thanksgiving, and Kurt was miserable that he couldn't go home because he couldn't afford it. Thankfully he had Rachel to work the shift with him, saying she had to stick around in the city for an extra few days anyway due to a mess up with her credits. He knew it was an excuse, but he appreciated the sentiment. Neither of them would be alone or miserable and they actually ended up having a pretty great party with just the two of them playing board games and taking shots.

Sebastian was one table out of Kurt's section, ordering a burger a fries with a diet coke from Rachel instead.

Of course, neither of them know this, and it’s unlikely that they ever will. But if they did, Kurt would probably tell Sebastian that it was the universes way of making sure they were finally ready to take that step without fucking it up, and Sebastian would laugh at Kurt for still being a dumb hopeless romantic and tell him that he doesn’t believe in destiny, and Kurt would pout and complain at him for spoiling the magic of their story until Sebastian kissed that look off his face. And Kurt would protest at first, but would get so lost by the pull of Sebastian’s scent and the taste of his lips that he’d forget what he’d been sulking about in the first place.


	2. Curiosity At First Sight

The next time they crossed paths was in late January 2018, when Kurt decided to spend his lunch hour browsing for books in Sebastian’s shop. If it could be classed as a lunch hour.

On slow days, Sebastian sometimes found himself wishing that he had a more exciting job. One that makes people’s eyes widen and their mouths fall open when you tell them what it is. Something far out and insanely cool like a spy or an astronaut or even a fire-fighter.

But he was just Sebastian Smythe, twenty four year old resident of New York City, owner of _Novel Idea_ , a quaint little book store halfway down 73rd street on the upper east side.

Most of the time he put it down to the avid reader in him, who lived vicariously through the characters in the stories he read, each of them shaping his perception of the world in a small way. Despite this, he liked to believe he was content with his day to day existence. And he was, most of the time.

Whenever he felt lonely he'd lock himself away in his room and listen to sad music and within a few hours Santana - his childhood and sometimes _only_ – friend - would storm into his room, knocking his door half off its frame and shouting in Spanish about how he needs to grow a pair and get his act together.

When he wasn't in his apartment, or breathing some relatively fresh air in Central Park (mostly as an excuse to get out of the path of Santana), he could be found in his store: a renovated, Manhattan townhouse complete with a flat roof and four stories.

The windows were large and welcoming, painted in a black around the frame which complimented the off white colours of the large blocks of brick surrounding it. A row of small plants could be seen from the windowsill on the upper shop floor and the door stood just to the left, painting in a deep red and framed in black and raised three uneven steps above the ground. It even had a little bell on the inside that rang any time it was opened.

It seemed small, squashed in-between two larger buildings on either side, but in actual fact the inside was deceptively spacious. The layout was slightly unusual for the style of building - that was mainly thanks to the previous owners who had completely renovated the space. What Sebastian had loved most on his first viewing was how the owners had added so much air to the space, deciding at the last minute to keep the features that made it exceptionally charming like the exposed beams across the high ceilings and the original brickwork on the back wall.

A lot of designers in the city were getting smart on their use of space - folding beds, flat pack kitchens, moving walls. The first two floors were reserved for the shop whilst the third story was a three bedroom apartment, complete with a decent view and two bathrooms. The upper floor of the shop had been removed in part to allow for a balcony that overlooked the front section of the shop.

Each of the side walls  - except the back wall where he'd instead added artwork to brighten the place up including a couple of the pieces may or may not have been his own - were covered from floor to ceiling, wall to wall and running throughout the centre of the shop in rows and rows of white shelving that stood out against the dark mahogany flooring. Starting underneath the ceiling of the upper floor and running through the centre of the store towards the back were two more shelves full of books.

The counter was a large black desk covered in books and papers and various other stationary with an old till set to the left. It was placed on the side opposite to the door, and raised a little off the ground, two black and white photographs of the cityscape rested on the wall behind. They were the first photographs that Sebastian had taken when he first arrived in the city.

The floors were connected by a narrow white metal spiral staircase just behind the counter against the wall, which led onto the balcony. Sebastian had thought it was hindering and obstructive, but had decided to keep it when he found out it was a part of the original building.

The layout of the shelves was identical on the upper floor and as soon as Sebastian moved in, he had placed in a couple of couches and a small table by the railings. Primarily he sold literature, most of which he had already read, so it did feel somewhat like a personal library, but he also kept books on painting techniques and photography, on travelling and languages and there was even a small section near the front for foreign literature.

It had been a long, laborious process to get the store to the state it was in now, and he still hadn't organised any of the books in the very back corner. Still, he was proud of his collection and even happier that over the past few months, thanks to a coffee addiction, social media promotion and word of mouth, business was really starting to pick up.

The first time that Sebastian sees Kurt is as he’s browsing through these rows of books in Sebastian’s shop. It was a dull Tuesday afternoon around two hours before closing, just an average, insignificant day.  That is until Sebastian’s gaze caught an immaculately dressed young man with coiffed chestnut hair.

Sebastian was replacing the some of the books on the upper floor when he heard Santana call him from downstairs. She'd offered to take over cashier duties for a few hours in exchange for him coming home earlier so they could have one of their 'date nights'.

He sighed heavily, abandoning his cart of books halfway down the aisle. He leaned over the balcony to see her with her feet resting on the desk, flipping through a magazine despite the fact that there were several various piles of books surrounding her on the desk which Sebastian called 'artistic chaos'. It was a good job it was a slow day.

"What do you want?" He called, she glanced up towards his voice, grinning.

"How long has it been?"

"Since what?" He replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Since you got laid?" She said bluntly.

Sebastian's mouth dropped into a small 'o' as his eyes rapidly searched the space below him to check for offended customers.

"'Tana this is my workplace. You can't shout stuff like that at me."

"I'll put down 'a while', then." She muttered, picking up her pen to write something on the magazine. She paused to ask, "more than three months?"

"Santana!" He exclaimed, blushing a little. God, since when did Sebastian blush about this stuff?

"Definitely more than three months." She smirked.

"Why do you even care?" He sighed before asking.

"It's for a quiz." She shrugged, holding up the magazine and smiling innocently. "It will tell you everything wrong in your life and how to fix it."

"I'm not sulking, and I don't need some quiz from a trashy magazine aimed at dull blondes to tell me how to live my life."

She continued as if he hadn’t said anything. "Have you ever participated in a sexual act with a member of the same sex?"

Sebastian just stared at her.

"Have you ever participated in a sexual act with more than one person?"

She looked up, blinking her eyelashes at him. He clenched his jaw.

"Would you like to?" She winked slowly, placing her hand against her chin.

"Stop."

"I'll put maybe then."

"Please."

"How many sexual partners have you had during your lifetime?"

Sebastian raised his hands in defeat. "You're fired."

"I don't work here." She shrugged.

"And now I remember why." He ran his hands through his hair, wondering why he was still indulging this conversation.

She smirked a little, glancing down at the magazine before asking the next question. "At what age did you lose your virginity?"

"We've been friends for twenty three years, Santana, can't you answer these questions yourself?" He rolled his eyes, figuring the shop was quiet and playing along would probably cause him less emotional torment in the end.

She scribbled down an answer anyway. "This is more fun. Have you ever cheated?"

"No." He replied instantly, with an edge of defensiveness that Santana didn't pick up on. Just nodded and scribbled something against the paper.

"Been cheated on?" Sebastian swallowed hard and stayed silent until she looked up. "Okay, moving on. Would you date someone twenty years older than you if they were filthy rich?"

"These questions make no coherent sense. Are you sure you're not making this shit up?" He was still stuck on the last question.

"You can quiz me next if you like?" She offered the magazine up again.

"I'll pass. Some of us do have work to do. Call me if you actually need me next time."

"Don't you want to know your result?" She said, shaking the magazine.

"I think I can live without it."

"Wanky." She smiled up at him.

He rolled his eyes at the overused term but smiled fondly in return and it was as he was turning back to carry on working that he saw him.

He could only see the man's profile and it was from a strange angle as he was stood above him, but he could see enough to know that he must be a model or something. He had no idea where he'd appeared from, he wasn't even aware that there was anyone in the shop. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the thought of his quaint, respectable little business being poisoned by the crude words of Santana but sighed in relief upon seeing the thin white cord of the man's headphones.

The man's lips moving minutely to the words of whatever song he was listening to, as he bobbed his head a little too. His eyes blinked softly, almost fluttered as they grazed through the 'recommended' section, his fingers brushing the titles and pulling out a couple to read the blurbs whilst he chewed his lip in thought. The action made his jawline even more prominent, and Sebastian's gaze wandered down to his perfectly pale neck, or what was exposed of it.

He seemed to be wearing a uniform of some kind, and part of Sebastian knew he'd seen it some place frequently but his mind was drawing a blank. He wore a white button up with a navy, cream and coffee coloured ascot tied high around his neck, the coffee colour matched the highlights in his hair and the navy matched the colour of his slim fitting trousers. He was definitely a model.

His eyes flitted towards Santana, who seemed to be giving the man a death glare from behind her magazine. He chuckled to himself at her insistence to direct her souring mood on some poor guy who, (as far as he knew) she'd never seen him before in her life.

The man turned his head to look further down the shelves, offering Sebastian an even better view. He could see that he had high cheekbones, soft lips and light, curious eyes. Also, a really cute nose. His figure still obscured a clear view of his book choices, but he laughed a couple of times at what he read.

Of course, it would just be Sebastian’s luck that the only day this week he’d set aside to replenish the shelves would also happen to be the only day that a really attractive man decides to drop by. Sebastian curses, reminding himself that whilst he does own the store - so technically he is his own boss - he has already put this off for three days and things could snowball downhill if he didn’t get on top of the books soon.

When he realised he'd been staring openly at the gentleman long enough to warrant a restraining order, he shook himself out of it, forcing himself to turn back and continue categorizing the newest additions to his modern art section. His mind raced with thousands of excuses and lame chat up lines to justify abandoning his task and introducing himself to the attractive stranger.

He really needed to get out more.

It had been so long since he'd dated anyone, or considered dating anyone. He hadn't even hooked up with a guy in months, despite Santana's constant complaining that he was a drain to be around like this. He just hadn't felt like it, he felt empty, lost, and the only things he cared about were his paintbrushes, his camera and the small child that was his book store. And that was okay.

But something he'd seen in the man stood just thirty feet away stirred something in him.

Before his mind could catch up to his footsteps, he was headed towards the staircase to ask Santana about... something. He'd make it up when he got there, maybe it would be the answer to that damn quiz.

He kept his eyes glued to the steps of the staircase, still untrusting of the narrow, slippery surface. When he reached the last step, he heard the bell chime above the door and his eyes shot up to see a blur of chestnut, white and navy slip out of view.

He paused as his foot reached the floor, cussing under his breath and pinching his nose. He took a deep breath and laughed silently to himself at how pathetic he must look. Then he headed to the counter, leaning into Santana's personal space so she was forced to put down the magazine.

"Did he buy anything?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Are you really that desperate for sales?"

"I'm just curious. He was looking in the 'recommended' section, I put that together myself. It took three weeks of careful planning."

"Someone catch your fancy?" She teased.

"Yeah, someone actually appreciating my passion for good books."

"I miss the old you." She shook her head.

"So?" He prompted, ignoring the dig.

"Yeah, he bought these." She said, sliding a small receipt across the desk. "He was a real asshole that one."

"Santana, you can't call the customers assholes." He said, examining the receipt and smiling at the choices.

"He's not here is he?"

Sebastian just shot her a disapproving look, scrunching the receipt subconsciously in his hand.

"Did you come down here just to ask that?" She added.

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't threatened anyone yet."

"There's still an hour or two left right?" She pouted.

Sebastian chuckled.

"I'm almost done upstairs so not even that."

"Great." She exclaimed, dropping down dramatically in the chair. "I don't know how much longer I can stand the smell of old books."

Sebastian picked up a book to shove in her face, before glancing once more towards the door and then heading back upstairs.

It would be just over five months until they would meet properly for the first time.

Sebastian waited hopefully for the man to return every day for the next two weeks, but forgot about him soon after, because he never came in again.


	3. Parks And  Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Sebastian's first 'proper' encounter. In Central Park, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually been so hard to wait an entire week to post this! I guess that's what happens when you already have a chapter ready to go for almost a year. As usual, unending gratitude to my beta and best friend, Lori and to everyone who has read and enjoyed this so far.  
> Anyway, I hope this makes things even more interesting, I was so happy to hear back that people are enjoying the concept. In my opinion, it gets a billion times more exciting as things progress.  
> Happy Glee Day!!

The first time they ‘officially’ met was on the eighth day of July that same year.

It was a Sunday morning, so Sebastian wasn't opening the shop.  Still, that didn't stop him from waking up around two hours before his alarm, unable to drift back to sleep. The warm weather had always interfered with that. He sighed, the influx of tourists in the city this season somehow always made his apartment feel lonelier, as if the world was passing him by.

Sebastian, along with Santana, had moved to the modest sized apartment above the bookstore two years ago after graduating from college. Originally he’d wanted to distance himself from his workplace, but there was no earthly way he’d find a nicer place with the money he had. Plus, it was just three subway stops (or on good days, a pleasant stroll away) from Central park.

Both their families came from money, they’d grown up in the same area of Ohio, moving in the same circles. At first Sebastian outright refused any financial help from his parents after they tried to push him into a law career, stating that he didn’t want their help if they wouldn’t support his choices. After a lot of persuasion from Santana that it couldn’t hurt to get a good beginning, get his feet on the ground and ultimately prove to his parents that a law career was not the only viable career option thank you very much, he decided to accept the money in his trust fund. It had been there for his entire life, after all.

Sebastian knew he was lucky, and he strived to never forget it. He was just twenty four years old and already owned his own business in one of the better areas of Manhattan and had enough free time and funds to dabble in all the arts he felt like.

Living directly above the shop limited the amount of exploring Sebastian could do during the week, but he used every spare minute he had to get out and capture the city. Sebastian adored photography, for the entire time he’d been living in the city he’d been building a collection of cityscapes and moments and memories of everyone and everything and everywhere. Nobody except him knew his collection existed.

The apartment was unusually still for most of the day, probably because Santana wasn’t home. He spent most of the day painting one of the cityscapes he’d taken the week before, but after a few hours when the smell of the turpentine became too strong and the proportions started to look odd since he’d been staring at it for too long, he decided to take a break and come back later.

He roamed the apartment, trying to decide whether to make a late dinner or wait up for Santana, and after a glance outside showed a clear sky, he decided to take a walk to Central Park before she got back. He picked up his camera out of habit before grabbing his bag from the rack by the door and closed the apartment door behind him, pulling the door twice to make sure it had locked itself.

Of course, as soon as his feet touched the sidewalk, the tranquillity of his day indoors was gone, replaced by the rush of central Manhattan.

He walked leisurely - though he was still a New Yorker, so 'leisurely' was still three times the speed of everyone else.  He snapped a couple of pictures of the buildings on his way, always preferring quiet and people-free shots. It felt like a contrast against the city that never sleeps, to find places where for the briefest moments, there were no signs of life. They were few and far between.

He turned off the path a little way in on his way towards Bow Bridge, enjoying the way the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. He reached an open space not soon afterwards, spotting the bridge up ahead.

He'd let his reservations go a long time ago about how ridiculous he looked when trying to get the best composition in his photos. It was New York, nobody really cared in the long run. So there he was, lying half on the grass, half on the path, one eye closed against the sun and just his elbow propping him up, camera pointed towards the water.

He took a few photos, looking back at the display after each one. After a few minutes, now crouched a little higher, a figure, facing away from him, walked right into the centre of his shot, and proceeded to just stand there.

"Excuse me." _Asshole_ , he added on in his head to the back of the slim, tall figure standing in the middle of his perfectly-set-up shot. "Excuse me." He repeated when the man didn’t respond. He raised his eyebrows and silently judged the guy for being such an inconvenience to him, muttering profanities to himself.

The man turned slowly, looking for the source of the voice. When he caught Sebastian’s eye, all the anger he’d directed towards him vanished and he was left staring at this stranger who didn’t quite feel so strange. The man’s eyes dropped to the camera Sebastian was holding in his hand and his mouth formed a tiny ‘o’ in understanding as he moved to apologize.

"It’s y-you?" He stuttered, blinking rapidly.

The man’s brow furrowed and he pointed towards his chest. "Me?"

"Ah, you-" He began, still unable to form words. "-Are in my way."

"Excuse me?" The man took a step forward, looking offended.

"Of the- of the photograph." He tried. “You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, surprising himself with the genuine politeness in his tone. “It’s just that the colours change so fast in the evening and are they are too gorgeous not to take advantage of.”

The man’s expression was soft as he listened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise I was in the way.” He replied, gesturing wildly with his hands and stepping towards Sebastian until he was certain he was well out of the shot.

Sebastian smiled back, crouching down again and angling his camera where Kurt had just been standing. He pressed the shutter a few times, checking the outcome on the screen and adjusting the settings accordingly whilst Kurt watched silently.

“So, you’re a photographer?” Kurt asked, his hands in his coat pockets.

“I dabble.” Sebastian answered, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun as he fiddled with the lens.

“Interesting.” He began, placing his hands deeper in his pockets as he swayed lightly on his feet, chewing his lip. “Hobby or professional?” He asked after a moment.

Sebastian stood up, ready to move on and see what else he could find whilst the light was still good. He glanced at the guy – it was definitely the same guy from his shop all those months ago. He could never forget that jaw structure.

“A bit of both. My work is on sale, but I don’t make a living from it.” He shrugged. He never talked about his art with anyone.

"Why not?" The man seemed genuinely curious.

"It's not stable enough." Sebastian shrugged again, his eyes glued to the camera screen.

"You live in New York City. Your camera cost at least $2000 and you're wearing the Ted Baker summer collection, I don't think money is an issue for you." The man countered with a chuckle.

"Excuse me? That's a little rude." Sebastian said, his eyebrows raised at the man, who threw him a quizzical look. "It could have been a gift? Or- or I could have bought it in the sale." He stammered, lowering his camera to look at the man.

"But you didn't." He smirked.

"That's awfully assuming of you." He frowned, unsure why he felt offended.

"Maybe I'm just really observational." He teased.

"Well, could you go and observe somewhere else?" He felt intimidated by the presence of the guy he'd spent weeks searching for not six months ago. His face was heated and it was not due to the New York summer heat.

"Ouch." The man said, his tone was still light, but his face gave away his hurt and confusion.

Sebastian turned to him but couldn’t look him in the eye. He felt guilt worm its way through his body, making him feel heavy, but he didn't feel so much like talking to really attractive strangers who were probably runway models right now. At least, not without writing a script or something beforehand to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.

He wanted to apologize but he couldn’t find the words.

"I hope you can't get the grass stains out of your coat." The man continued, pointing to Sebastian. He walked away, across the bridge and out of sight.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, significantly confused by the entire exchange and instantly regretting his hostility.

After spending at least another hour in the park photographing whatever scenes took his fancy, he decided to head back to the apartment, stopping for a coffee on the way.

Sebastian knew every coffee-shop in a six block area. He'd visited almost every one too, but still hadn't found the perfect place. He stopped at one of his preferred places half a block from the park.

It was a little more on the expensive side due to its location, and the dark red brick and hanging baskets gave it an unusually out-of-place feeling, but the tourists seemed to walk straight on by meaning it was always filled with the pleasant hum of New York's artistic personalities.

He pushed open the door, smiling and breathing in deep when he was confronted by the overwhelming scent of coffee beans and a hint of vanilla and chocolate.

The queue wasn't too long, and Sebastian took out his phone to mess with whilst he was waiting.

“Thanks.” The man at the front of the queue said as he accepted his change and waited for his drink. Sebastian looked up towards the breathy and familiar voice.

Sebastian did a double take; it was the guy from the park, the one who’d stood in the way of his favourite shot of the day, (and had been present in his second favourite shot of the day). He spent the few moments before it was his turn to order to drink in the guy’s profile as he stood scrolling through his phone.

He really was kind of breath-taking.

The man smiled in a way that scrunched up his whole face as he grabbed his drink and muttered a “thank you” and Sebastian was certain he’d never seen anything cuter in his entire life. He turned away from the counter in search of his seat; his eyes searched the shop floor before catching sight of Sebastian.

The man carried on smirking at Sebastian like he was in on a secret that Sebastian didn't know as he walked past him to find a seat in the area behind. Sebastian's eyes followed him until Kurt started laughing. He shook himself out of it and turned his attention back to the counter, where the menu had suddenly become ten times more interesting.

He got his order without much trouble, and had almost forgotten about the man until he was walking towards the door.

"Hey stranger." The voice greeted him enthusiastically as if they were old friends from somewhere on his left.

“H-Hey?” Sebastian replied, looking down to find Kurt sat with his feet resting on the chair opposite, smiling up at him.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon again.” He extended his hand, Sebastian accepted it.

“No, me either.” The man had that unnameable expression he seemed to wear constantly when he was around Sebastian. It was a mix between intense curiosity and mild amusement.

"Look, I'm- I'm really sorry I was so rude to you earlier." He stuttered, not able to meet Kurt's eyes.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, surprised by the apology. "Wow, did you track me down just to tell me that? I’m flattered.”

Sebastian just stared in lieu of replying.

“It's cool. We're all assholes sometimes." Kurt smiled innocently. Sebastian's eyes shot up towards Kurt who gave nothing away. "Kidding. Kind of." 

"Um, sorry?" Sebastian said, not so sure where this was going.

"Sit." It was more of a demand than a question.

"I-"

"Please." He continued, shoving his boots onto the floor and gesturing at the now empty chair.

Sebastian chewed his lip for a moment, but decided he wasn't sure why he was hesitating in the first place. This guy was attractive and seemingly fun and mysterious. Sebastian had no idea just how much. He took the seat, shifting loudly a few times and almost dropping his drink onto the table.

Kurt was still smiling at him in _that_ way, and he wondered if that was just his default face. He seemed to be making no effort to start a conversation.

"So?" Sebastian prompted.

"Are you stalking me?" Kurt blurted out.

"What- no? If anything, you're stalking me."

"Touché." Kurt nodded, and they stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time.

Sebastian messed uncomfortably with the lid on his cup. "Is there a reason you asked me to sit down or?"

"Something wrong with making friends in New York City?" Kurt countered, raising one eyebrow.

"Making friends?"

"Yeah, you know, socialising.” Kurt smiled when Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “So if it's just a hobby, what do you do for a living, Mr _Artiste_?"

"I, own a bookstore."

"You're like- twenty five."

"Twenty four." Sebastian corrected.

"Man you really must be rich. Did you rob a bank or something?" He said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from his drink.

"No." He laughed at the way Kurt now looked seriously concerned. "My family." He added with an eye roll, as if that explained everything.

"Old money. I see. Shouldn't you be like, a lawyer or something?"

"Oh how that would please my parents. I mean, they are great and I love them but-"

"I get it."

"They had high expectations. Harvard or Yale or something. Telling them I wanted to come to New York to study art was worse than telling them I'm gay." He went on, unable to stop himself, hardly noticing Kurt's expression change at this piece of information. "I didn't speak to them for like the first eight months of college but then my brother convinced them they were being stupid and he's in a band that's doing pretty okay so they called me up and asked me if they could come visit."

He noticed Kurt shifting slightly out of the corner of his eye and refocused.

"I'm sorry. I have totally been talking about myself too much. What about you? Tell me something about yourself?"

Kurt blinked a few times at the question. "What do you want to know?"

"Um, I don't know. What do you do? Where are you from? This coffee shop, do you come here often?" He blurted, looking around wildly for inspiration. He'd had a million questions floating around in his head until he was asked out right.  Then his mind blanked.

Kurt chuckled at the questions. "It's lovely isn't it? I love the atmosphere and the people. Everyone here is interesting and some of the stories I've heard, you wouldn't believe. Last week, I was sat with a women, must have been in her seventies, and she told me that when she was twenty she fell through a time portal near Versailles and ended up 1796 at the height of the French revolution. Personally, I think she was insane or tripping or something, but it was very entertaining to listen to. She was a very dramatic storyteller."

"Well, that's New York for you." Sebastian laughed. "My first weekend here, a man stopped me outside the subway to ask me to donate money to him to support his space machine. Which turned out to be a cardboard box covered in foil and sharpie."

"You know, I think I met him once."

Sebastian tried not-so-subtly to bring the subject back to Kurt. "Have you lived here long, then?"

Kurt's phone buzzed them, his brow furrowing as he read what must have been a text. "Oh shoot, I have to go. Trains to catch, cats to feed."

Kurt stood abruptly, dropping the label of the cup he'd been picking at on the table and stood up to leave, lifting his bag on his shoulder and smoothing down his jacket, adjusting a couple of the buttons.

"Wait, I didn’t even catch your name." Sebastian called after him.

Kurt worried his bottom lip as he thought about his response.

“You know what?” He said, with a cheeky smile, Sebastian couldn’t help but return it. “I’ll let you guess.”

“Really? You want me to guess your name?” Sebastian replied, cocking his eyebrow at the man.

“Umhum.” He beamed back, taking a sip of his mocha. Sebastian just stared.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit silly?”

“I think it sounds fun.” He said, eyes wide and excited.

“How old are you? Five?”

“Your loss. But the only way you’re finding out is if you guess it correctly.”  He shrugged, with mock sympathy for the other man.

“And if I can’t?” Sebastian gaped.

“Better luck next time.” Kurt winked.

“But I might never see you again.”

“You want to see me again?” Kurt said, and Sebastian debated with whether this counted as flirting.

“Maybe.” He muttered, blushing slightly at being called out so blatantly. There was a pause.

“Are you going to guess, then?”

“Fine. You win.” He paused. He pursed his lips, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as he tilted his head back. He glanced back at him, trying to filter out a name that suited him. When he couldn’t think of anything that felt right, he glanced around the shop for inspiration.

“Charlie?” He hesitated; it was the name of the barista who had served them earlier.

Kurt scrunched up his face again and for a fleeting moment Sebastian thought he might have gotten it right on the first try.

“I look like a Charlie?” He asked, intrigued.

“Maybe, I don’t know. I can kind of see it.”

Kurt just smiled, enjoying the game.

“Can I have a clue?”

“Nope.” He smiled.

“Not even a small one?”

Kurt shook his head. Sebastian sighed.

“Right. A name, a name.” He muttered to himself. Kurt moved to sit down again, knowing Sebastian might take a while. “I really don’t know.” He dropped his hands into his lap. “Thomas?”

Kurt pulled a face and pointed his thumb downwards. Sebastian frowned and drummed his hands on the table.

“How am I supposed to have a chance at getting this right if you won’t help me out?”

“You have one more guess.” Was all Kurt said.

“What? No. No, that wasn’t the deal.” He sat forward in his chair.

“Do you think I have time to spend all day sitting here whilst you try and guess my name?”

“No.” He stuttered. “I just really want to know.”

“Be my guest.” He gestured with his hands.

“What does it begin with?”

Kurt sipped his drink.

“How long is it?” He tried.

“Is it a common name?”

Kurt reached inside his blazer and pulled out a pen, he began scribbling something on a napkin in front of him.

“You suck.” Sebastian sighed.

Kurt smiled, tucking his pen back into his blazer.

“Freddie?”

“Ha. Nope. Until next time.” Kurt replaced the satchel on his shoulder and stood up to leave.

“I like that you assume there will be.” Sebastian called, and Kurt laughed as he walked away.

“G’bye, meerkat.” He called over his shoulder.

“See you around, elf prince.” Kurt’s steps faltered as he turned around to stare at Sebastian with wide eyes. The faintest blush began to colour his cheeks as he searches Sebastian’s face. He shook himself out of it a few moments later, offering Sebastian a small wave before he continues walking and pushed through the door.

Sebastian stared as the door closed behind him, following his figure through the crowd until he was out of sight. He stayed sat there, mentally running through every name he could think of until he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He briefly glanced at the caller ID before accepting the call.

“Santana.” He said in lieu of a proper greeting.

“Are you coming back soon?” She said, skipping straight to the point.

“I’m just about to head back, yeah. Why, what do you want?”

“Could you pick up a take out on your way or something? I’m not in the mood to cook.”

“I don’t know.” He teased.

“Seb.”

“Of course. What do you want?” He laughed.

“Anything. The first decent place you come across will do.” He could practically feel her bluntness through the phone.

“Are you okay?”

“Wanky.” She paused. “Just a long day.” She sighed.

“I’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“Where are you, anyway?”

“Just stopped for some coffee.”

“You need to be put in a twelve step program I swear.” She said, and this time he could hear her eyes roll.

“I do not.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“Maybe it will be for your own good that I don’t bring you take out back, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“See you soon, Snix.” He said and hung up.

He stared at his now blank screen for a couple more minutes before the napkin caught his attention and he dragged it across the table towards him. It was folded in half, the first few digits of what could be a phone number visible in the corner. He unfolded it and smoothed it out a little as he turned it around to read the scrawl.

The nameless bookshop-wandering, photo-bombing, scrunchy faced guy had written “I bet for a second you thought this was my phone number, sorry xoxo.”

Sebastian sat for a few moments, a goofy smile plastered on his face, when he realised that he'd actually learnt nothing about this man apart from that clearly, he loved playing mind games. Sebastian had told him much more than he'd got back, and suddenly he wasn't smiling anymore.

He grabbed his things, the napkin still in hand, then headed to re-join the queue to buy another Grande latte before he left. He stopped at a little Italian place a block away from their apartment to pick up a pizza to share since they’d had sushi the night before.

“Did you get even more coffee? I can smell it from here, jeez.” Santana asked when he had half a foot through the door as he placed the pizza box on the table.

“Not for you.” He replied, taking a long sip even though she wasn’t in view yet.

“Asshole.” She stalked into the hallway, folding her arms when she caught sight of Sebastian.

“Don’t you know it.” He placed the cup and his keys alongside the pizza on the table, leaning to untie his shoelaces. Santana took this opportunity to steal the coffee whilst he was balanced on one leg.

“Bitch. You give that back!” He called after her retreating form.

“Not likely.” She shrugged.

“You don’t even like coffee.”

“But you do. Too much.”

“I hate you.” He said as he caught up to her.

Santana blew a kiss in his direction whilst he sat ungracefully on the couch beside her. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup as she lifted it to her mouth, smirking when her face turned sour and she spat the liquid back into the cup.

“Scalding?” He asked.

“You know I hate cinnamon.” She pouted, bringing one hand up to catch the drips of coffee around her mouth and slamming the cup of the table in front of them with the other and reaching for a tissue. Sebastian just rocked with silent laughter beside her.

“That’s disgusting.” She added, glaring at the cup.

“Well it's a good job I didn't buy it for you.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” She turned to Sebastian, hitting him on the arm.

“You swooped in and took it before I’d even unbuttoned my coat.”

“Did you get food?”

“Italian. By the door.” She left the room to retrieve the box.

"Pizza isn't Italian." Santana said when she re-entered the room.

"Um, yes it is?"

"Calling a pizza 'Italian' gives you the impression that it's classy."

"You asked for food."

"Food, not cheese and grease ugh." She flipped open the lid and scrunched her nose.

"Why are you so pissy tonight? I mean, you're always a bitch but wow, who kicked your puppy?" Sebastian asked, as he got up to get some plate and drinks from the kitchen.

"It's just some guy I work with." She called.

"At the internship?" He replied, returning with two wine glasses and a bottle of rosé under his arm. He placed them on the coffee table, reaching for the bottle opener that lay under a pile of books from a previous night in. "I thought you guys were friends now?"

"We kind of were, _are_ , it's just- no one should be that good at everything." She said, exasperated.

"So, you're pissed because he's amazing?" Sebastian asked, holding back a laugh.

"Yes." She said seriously, meeting his eye. "You know we met at the interview and I thought he was a pretentious ass then, with his perfect hair and tailored suit and fucking hippo brooch-"

"He does work in fashion."  Sebastian countered.

Santana began to reach for her glass before he'd even started pouring.

She rolled her eyes. "His 'fashion style'," she air quoted, "is worse than Ugly Betty's."

"So what did he do to set you off today?"

"Ugh.” She sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling her knees up to her chest. “It's like his sole purpose in life is just to show me up. He arrived early, despite working two jobs, brought Isabelle and me coffee-" she took a long gulp of the wine.

"Did he get you cinnamon?" Sebastian mock gasped.

"He got me gingerbread. Two pumps."

"Wow, that guy's good."

"I don't even know how he knows half this shit." Sebastian raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "But anyway, then he brought Isabelle her coat, drying cleaned and pressed, the one that she asked me to clean three days ago after some moron spilt coffee on it-"

"Sounds like he's trying a little hard."

"It doesn't even stop there. Last week Isabelle had given us some of the files from the archives to sort through or some shit, to get inspiration for pitching an article idea next month, and he's already got a page full already." She paused for breath. "I don't even know where I put the fucking file. He's going to get me fired." She exclaimed.

"Just write down some shit and shove it in his face." Sebastian shrugged.

" _It's. Isabelle. Wright_." She gaped, punctuating each word of her name.

"So?"

"So, something I came up with in five minutes whilst getting wasted with you isn't going to cut it." She exclaimed, reaching for a slice of pizza.

"This guy really brings out your competitive side, doesn't he?" Sebastian laughed.

"He's a machine. I don't think he sleeps. Ever. All he does is run around working, working, always holding a coffee cup. It makes me dizzy."

"You're going to have to step up your game, Lopez."

"Oh, I will. Because what Aunty Tana wants, Aunty Tana gets." She said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I'll do my best to stay away." Sebastian said with no hint of sarcasm.

"What can I say? Snix is back in town." She said, shimming her shoulders into Sebastian's side.

"She has not been missed."

"Ha! What's up with you, anyway? You're in a spectacularly good mood. Did you finally realise you have a working dick?" She gasped.

"Never forgot."

"Go on."

"I got some really great photos, managed to get all the way to and from the park without getting mugged, had a great coffee and..."

"Yawn." She interrupted, faking a large yawn.

"I met a guy." He said as if it wasn’t important.

"I knew it!" She exclaimed, hitting his shoulder with a cushion playfully.

Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"What's his name?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, messing with the seam on the cushion to avoid looking at her.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

"Oh god this isn't another one of those times where you watch from afar, having imaginary conversations and planning your lame, domestic, cutesy futures together is it?"

"No!" Sebastian said defensively.

"For the last time, honey. To have a relationship with someone, you have to talk to them." She teased, speaking to him as if he were a child.

"I spent like, the past three hours talking to him."

"Is he imaginary?"

"No. But he's unearthly beautiful." Sebastian sighed, his eyes glassy.

"Is that so?"

"He looks like an angel or something. It hurts to look at him. In a good way."

Santana rolled her eyes but humoured him anyway. "What does this mystery man do then?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know that either? Do you know anything about him?"

"He's stunning. I think he must be a model or something. If not, that's the greatest tragedy to humanity."

"I'm feeling nostalgic. Shallow, 'I'll sleep with anything that's attractive' teenage Sebastian is back." She said.

"I am not shallow. I see people for what they are.” He said, folding his arms. “Which is _probably_ why I haven't dated anyone in years and raises several valid questions as to why I'm still friends with you."

"We're way past that. You can't break up with me now." She pouted.

"Don't think that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. Why do you think I lock my door at night?" He joked.

"I just assumed you were a chronic masturbator." She nudged.

"You're so vulgar." He replied, turning his attention to the television screen and flicking through a selection of films.

Santana wondered not for the first time where Sebastian "whore of Westerville's gay scene" had gone. The change had been gradual but noticeable, and the cause was never found. Sebastian never talked about his past.


	4. The F Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my best beta in the universe, Lori, for actually reminding me that it's Friday and I needed to post this.  
> This chapter explores Kurt's background and history, so I hope you find that enjoyable. Comment and criticise please, I welcome it.  
> And if you're still watching Glee season six (it's really fucking good) and are a multi-shipper like me, let's talk about the klAINE WEDDING OKAY BC HECK

Kurt and Rachel lived in a two bed, two story townhouse near Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn complete with a small but airy music room, an open plan kitchen diner and two bathrooms. They’d been saving together for nearly a decade in any and every way they could; work at the Lima Bean the summer after graduation, Kurt working a few extra hours at his father’s tyre shop on the weekends, Rachel even busked once or twice at the mall in Lima. Their extensive obsession with their New York dreams had given them a decent but still unrealistic expectation of the fast pace and incredibly expensive rates of city living.

When they’d arrived in New York, both of them had ended up working two jobs at any one time in order to pay the rent and the bills and just to eat, saving any extra tips for their future. For the first five years, they’d lived in a spacious and unique loft in Bushwick, though the location left something to be desired. In just half a year though, they’d transformed the empty and cold space into something incredible. It was by all means a joint effort, Rachel had surprisingly great taste in furnishings and Kurt’s inner interior designer even found itself agreeing with most of the purchases she made. It was a hard place to let go of.

They’d agreed to make the move after a particularly bad incident involving a misunderstanding with a shady neighbour, stolen goods, a Swiss army knife and two of NYPD’s finest officers. No one was hurt, but several things were never replaced and they never really felt safe enough there again. Rachel had even insisted on sleeping in Kurt's bed for three weeks afterwards.

By this point, their careers were looking up, they were free from all things college and thanks to the various savings accounts they’d vowed not to touch until after graduation they could afford to relocate.

Rachel got her first supporting role during the summer after freshmen year, and her first starring role during her third year at NYADA. With her loud personality and clear, shining talent that had improved tenfold since high school, she was quickly making a name for herself.

Kurt had worked an array of jobs by the time he graduated, seeming to accomplish more than those a decade into their careers as far as his range was concerned. He’d began as an office temp doing administration and answering phone calls for a small, independent fashion company after he’d seen a vacancy on the way home from NYADA. The work was dull but the experience helped him move on to become a junior editor at Vogue.com, where he was now.

Well, as an intern.

He'd been there almost for a couple of months now, but Isabelle had told him that he had an incredibly high chance of being taken on full time, wage and everything, at the end of the internship.

The trouble with internships was, he was putting in seven hours a day into this company, and not getting anything back except experience. Which led to him take up a second job, again.

He worked every other evening _and_ Saturdays at a small coffee shop, creatively titled _'Perks'_ , halfway down 73rd street on the Upper East Side. It was lovely; the staff were friendly and so were the patrons, the artwork was gorgeous and the whole atmosphere was quirky and unique without being elitist. The menu was really creative and it wasn't too overpriced for the location and he genuinely enjoyed spending time there. 

He thought a lot about his dreams, where he thought he'd be at this point in his life back in high school, when NYADA and Broadway seemed like the be all and end all of his career. It wasn't until his first New York fashion week that he started wondering if maybe he was on the wrong path after all.

He loved performing more than anything, but after his first experience in the world of East Coast fashion, he started to publish some of his works that he'd been too shy to show anyone back in Ohio. Soon, his blog started to gain some attention and gave him the confidence to make the time to start designing and making his clothes again.

He took up an evening class at NYU in fashion, working himself sick practicing for dance classes at NYADA, working at the office, and leaving hardly any time for his social life. The only time he really saw Rachel was on a Sunday morning and in the hallways of the school.

Eventually he cracked, exhausted and confused by the direction his life had taken, unsure whether a changing dream meant giving up on one he'd wanted since he was six years old and saw Wicked for the first time in a run down and far from professional theatre in Lima.

He transferred to NYU at the end of his sophomore year, majoring in fashion journalism after a lengthy debate with himself, and the kind followers of his blog. They told him to follow his heart, accept the change if it felt right and it wasn't until he graduated and got an interview at vogue.com that he knew with 100% of himself that he'd made the right choice.

Kurt liked where he lived, it had its perks; it was a much more pleasant neighbourhood than Bushwick at least, and whilst she had her moments, he really couldn’t think of a better roommate than Rachel. They'd been through everything together, suffering only three major arguments which were all mainly Rachel's fault, but were quickly resolved when she snuck into his room with ice cream and a bunch of DVD rentals to make it up, or left a letter under a plate of pancakes in the morning when she couldn't word her apology properly and ended up digging a bigger hole for herself.

The positive memories outweighed the negative ones, though. Everything from the day they pretended to be first time tourists sight-seeing the highlights of New York the week after finals in freshman year, to the night they got spectacularly drunk and decided it would be a fantastic idea to tattoo each other’s names in cursive on their ankles after buying their first house together as fully fledged adults.

During their junior year, their schedules became ridiculously busy. But at the first sign of Kurt pulling away Rachel had freaked out, declaring that they were way too important to each other to let go now just because their ambitions were different. So after a night of ruthless planning and yet more alcohol they'd started a tradition that during every free weekend they had, they would take the subway to somewhere in Manhattan, (decided at random by popsicle sticks in a sock) visit one of the attractions, be it a museum, art gallery or other type of landmark, and then go for dinner or coffee afterwards.

The last place that Kurt wanted to be right now, however, was on the subway. It was always, without fail, no matter what time of day or night, overcrowded, loud and uncomfortable. He’d briefly considered the idea of buying a small car, but quickly decided against it when he realised it would mean sitting in gridlock with the feeling of never getting anywhere.

It was an active struggle to not scream or hit someone for the duration of his journey, and sometimes the subway station was actually worse than the train itself. He was usually pretty good at maintaining at least a little bit of personal space on these journeys, though it seemed as if his luck had run out today.

He pulled the strap of his satchel further up his shoulder from where it had just been rudely knocked off by a grumpy middle aged businessman who almost missed his stop. He sighed quietly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the railing in front of him.

He thought back to his first weekend in New York, he’d decided with Rachel to make the final move in the last week of August, a couple of weeks before classes started. It seemed much more practical and gave them some time to get acquainted with the city as New Yorkers instead of tourists. Mostly it was just because they couldn’t stay away and they'd found excuses to visit at least three times during the summer to look at the school, or apartments or the Empire State.

He smiled to himself as he remembered his first time on the subway as a New Yorker. Despite the numerous weekend visits in the summer after graduation they’d took to try to get a feel of the city and the neighbourhood they’d choose as home, something felt different to them.

There were a lot of people, (well, there were always a lot of people), there was virtually no space, and something smelt funny. He saw Rachel’s smile falter a little after a particularly rough shove that may or may not have been accidental, almost forcing her out of the carriage when the doors opened. She didn't let go of Kurt's hand for the rest of the ride.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, drawing him from his thoughts and awkwardly attempted to retrieve it from his pocket in the businessman sandwich position he was stuck in. He thought he must have looked ridiculous with his arm bent at such an awkward angle to avoid minimal inconvenience.

At that moment the train jolted harshly as it began preparing to stop. Kurt’s phone almost flew out of his hand as he tried desperately with the other to hang on to the rail in front of him. His shoulder connected with the back of a taller man stood in front of him.

He rubbed softly at his shoulder, muttering an apology at the faceless man. He isn’t sure whether the man heard him; he could hardly hear himself right now over the annoyingly loud and bubbly couple sat to his left.

He shot them a glare, taking out his frustrations on them, not noticing that the man in front of him had turned to face him.

"Hey! Fancy bumping into you here." The man smiled, shifting uncomfortably as the doors opened and the entire carriage seemed to try and leave only to be replaced by twice as many people.

It has been just over three weeks since they'd first met. Kurt was momentarily wordless, staring up at the man from the café that he never thought he'd see again. And whose face was surprisingly close in the cramped space.

"Rude obnoxiously rich photographer guy!" He replied, speaking as if what he said wasn't offensive.

Sebastian's smile didn't falter. "Mysterious and creepy pale faced coffee shop guy!"

"What are you doing here?" The doors slammed shut and the train shuddered into motion, pushing them impossibly closer together.

"Hey, no. You know what, it took me a while but I realised in our last talk, you didn't actually tell me anything about yourself. You're good at deception."

Kurt glanced either side of him; he couldn't turn his head properly because it really was that busy.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm just more interested in other people’s stories. How are you?"

"Are you a writer or something? I'm feeling fine. How are you?"

"Good, good. A little cramped but hey, when isn't it?" Kurt laughed, still trying to read whatever text message he'd received.

"Thrills of the greatest city in the world, eh?" Sebastian glanced down towards Kurt's phone.

"But I wouldn't change it for anything." He looked up.

"Oh yeah?"

"I grew up in a cow-town full of narrow minded bullies and assholes."

"I know the feeling."

"Here I'm free." He shrugged, looking away from Sebastian's gaze, he could hear his breathing from the distance. A women shuffled by, knocking Sebastian into Kurt without looking back to apologize. "Well, as free as I can be, since there are still assholes everywhere." He glared at the woman's retreating form.

Sebastian chuckled. "So where are you from?"

"You wanna guess that too?"

"Not really." Sebastian said, leaning back a little.

Kurt sighed. "Ohio."

"Ohio?" Sebastian repeated, eyebrows raised.

"And you're from somewhere much, much greater, right?"

"I grew up in Ohio too, tiger."

"You did?" Kurt tried to suppress his surprise.

"Well, technically I was born just outside Paris, but we moved here when I was three so..."

"I've always wanted to go to Paris." Kurt said with a far away look.

"You've never been."

" _Jamais_." He replied, with a perfect accent.

" _Tu parle français_?" He replied, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

" _Bien sûr_." Kurt replied, smiling.

"You have a beautiful accent."

" _Merci_. You too." Kurt said, the lightest blush forming on his cheeks.

"I like a man that can speak French." Sebastian whispered, leaning in closer and lowering his hand on the rail.

When Kurt did nothing but blink back at him, Sebastian realised his error. He was blushing even harder now, not meeting his eyes and Sebastian mentally slapped himself for being so forward. He didn't know if he was gay, he didn't even know his name. Sebastian leaned back to pull his hand through this hair, ruffling it every which way. Kurt's eyes followed the movement.

"Me too." He muttered in reply.

Sebastian's hand stopped. " _Vraiment_?"

" _C'est sexy_."

"I'm sure my French mother was thinking that exact same thing when she taught it to me aged two."

Kurt laughed loudly. "Teaching you the ways of true seduction so young? Must be why you're so smooth."

"So it paid off? I'll make sure to send her a thank you card." Sebastian smiled, trying not to overthink whether they crossed the line into flirting and just go with it.

"I don't know, why don't you find a bar and find out?" Perhaps not.

"Is that a dare?" He lowered his face ridiculously close to Kurt's.

"Do you want it to be?" Kurt stopped blinking.

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" Sebastian tilted his head and stuck his lips out in a pout.

"I don't know, do I?" Kurt shifted his head the opposite way, raising his eyebrows.

They just stared at each other then, each waiting for the other to speak. They realised they had been looking at each other with equally goofy grins, Kurt's eyes sparkling and their laughter died down.

Sebastian looked down at his hands before saying, "so, since we've now met fou- I mean three? Three times now, I think you should tell me your name. We're borderline friends."

"Only if you tell me yours." Kurt winked.

"Fine. It's-"

"No. Seriously don't you think guessing is more fun. Life needs some excitement."

"You live in New York City, how can life be any more exciting. People call it the city that never sleeps."

Kurt shrugged.

"Okay fine. Um, Sam?"

"No."

"Dean?"

Kurt laughs. "No, and I'm not named after an angel either, before you ask."

"I was going to say Bobby, actually."

Kurt just glared. "You have one more guess."

"Kevin?"

"Really? No." He deadpanned.

"Darn it. I really hoped plucking a random name influenced by a TV show I used to watch would be it."

Kurt smirked as he glanced behind him out of the window. "Well, this is me."

"Work or home?"

"Maybe." He winked again.

The brakes squealed loudly as the train started to stop, the wheels fitting uncomfortably against the track.

"I get the feeling we will meet again."  Kurt said as he shoved his phone in his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. He began singing quietly under his breath. _"Don't know where, don't know when."_  He laughed louder to himself then, rolling his eyes, seemingly at himself.

"Well I have no other way to find you, seen as you won't tell me your name or give me your phone number."

"Let the fates decide." Kurt shrugged.

"You really believe in that shit?"

"No, not really. But who can say for certain?"

"Science?" Kurt said mysteriously.

"Science." He echoed, as the doors opened and Kurt turned to push his way out, his satchel narrowly escaping being caught by the doors.

Sebastian stood, gloved hand grasping the rail tightly, confused and frustrated by this complex puzzle of a man who Sebastian was determined to solve.

Kurt almost looked back as he heard the train pull away, but resisted the urge. He climbed the steps quickly, pulling his bag closer to himself out of habit.

+

Against his better will, Kurt battled with himself for the entire day, which wasn't usually something that he did. He took life on the chin, working hard at what he loved, spending time with Rachel, enjoying all the other perks New York City has to offer. He stopped dwelling on the motivations and words of people he didn't care about, stopped dwelling on past regrets and mistakes, on his flaws and fears and just lived each day as it happened.

But today as he sat at his usual desk, mindlessly sketching to pass the time, his mind was drawn back to that conversation earlier on the subway. And at the coffee shop, and in the park. Which spiralled into thinking about every little quirk and word and unconscious gesture and whether he regretted them. Was he too harsh and sarcastic to a stranger he'd met twice? Is that how he came across to every person he crossed paths with? Did his friends think he was just a heartless ass?

Was he just a heartless ass?

When Kurt arrived home just past nine that evening, he was exhausted. Rachel called out to ask how he was as he rested his head on the door.

He muttered a 'fine' before shifting into his room to change into more comfortable clothing. He took a detour past the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of red from the fridge.

Rachel's smile became concern when he walked back in wearing slacks and carrying wine.

"Bad day?" She frowned.

"Something like that."

"What happened?" She asked, accepting the glass he handed her and soothing his arm with the other. He leant into her touch, placing his head on her shoulder.

"It was just long, and stressful. And I've just been thinking and thinking all day since I got off the subway."

"About what, hon?"

"Me." He nuzzled further into her shoulder to hide his face.

"What about you?"

"Just... it doesn't matter."

"It's clearly bothering you. Come on." She said, patting his knee and sitting him up so they could face each other. "Spill."

"It's nothing interesting, seriously."

"I don't care."

He took a long sip of wine. "Am I an asshole?"

"Excuse me?" She replied, brow furrowed and wine paused at her lip.

"Am I- You know how you always tell me to take life more seriously?"

"And you always laugh in my face and tell me to live a little?"

"Yeah. Well, what if you're right?" He asked, chewing his bottom lip.

"How do you mean?"

"I'm so fed up of it, Rach."

"Of what?"

"Being this person." He sighed.

"Has something happened?" Her face was coloured with comical levels of concern.

"I met this guy-"

"Where? When? Tell me everything." Her concern twisted into enthusiasm and she placed her glass down so she could pay him more attention.

"Don't jump ahead." He said, trying to calm her frantic excitement.

She raised both her hands in surrender.

"We met in the park a few weeks back, he seemed... interesting? I don't know. I felt drawn to him."

"Is he cute?" She interrupted.

"Very. More, drop dead stunning. Yes, attractive. But that's not the point."

"Okay, the point, go on."

"He's artistic, and smart. But rude.” He paused, smiling fondly. “Rude and sarcastic."

"You're all those things too." Rachel nudged his shoulder.

"I guess. I don't know. Anyway, he turned up at our coffee shop a couple of hours later and we talked for a bit."

"That's great Kurt! It's been so long since you let someone in."

"That's the problem. I can't do it. I can't stop treating it like one big game. I didn't even tell him my name."

"On purpose or did you just forget?" She reached for some of the snacks already on the table.

"I gave him three guesses." He replied.

"Kurt."

"I know."  He finished the glass and poured another, topping up Rachel's too.

"You said you'd stop doing that."

"I tried. But he was sat there, asking all these questions and I just threw up all my walls like a damn mirror. I don't think he learnt a single thing about me that day except that I'm an asshole."

"You're not. You're just insecure and a lot of people have hurt you Kurt. I get it." She said genuinely.

"Thanks, Rach." He smiled fondly.

"But you said you'd seen him again? How?"

"That's the crazy thing. Today, on the subway to work, he was just there. Right in front of me. I have no idea how long he'd been there, I only noticed him when the carriage shoved me right into his back."

"Did he recognise you?" Rachel asked with new found enthusiasm.

"Oh yeah."

"What did he say?"

"He called me out on my deflective tendencies." Rachel frowned in sympathy. "Smart, sarcastic _and_ observational."

"Don't forget good looking." She nudged his shoulder.

"And he speaks fluent French."

"Wow, he sounds perfect for you." She laughed.

"I can't have a love life if I can't relax long enough to tell someone my name."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You always bounce back."

"I think the last one broke me."

"Kurt, think of everything you went through back in Lima." She placed her hand back on his knee and he covered it with his own. "It was tough, you didn't deserve it. But you showed every single bully in that place that no one can touch you when you walked out of that door with your NYADA acceptance letter. You're fierce, unstoppable, unbreakable."

""I love you, Rachel Berry."  He smiled at her, reaching for her hand.

"I love you too."  She smiled back, squeezing it.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." He got up to wander back into the kitchen.

"Starve, maybe. There's Chinese in the microwave, bring me some too."

"You're an angel."

There was no sound but the shuffling of plates and bowls before Kurt came back. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the television humming in the background.

Kurt shifted on the couch. "What if he was special?"

Rachel turned to him, taking a moment to catch up with the change of mood. "The guy?"

"Yes, the guy." He rolled his eyes, putting his food on the table.

"Maybe he was." She shrugged, lifting some noodles to her mouth.

Kurt frowned. "What if we could have been something special?"

"You've met him twice, Kurt." She said in-between chews.

"You got engaged at eighteen." Kurt replied, scrunching his face at her lack of manners.

"I stand by that decision. But we were in love, Kurt." Rachel pointed her fork towards him.

"I know. I just- I hate the idea that I could lose something amazing because I won't stop long enough to give it a chance."

"Is this the wine talking?" She eyed the empty glass, unsure how many he'd had at this point.

"No, I am fine. I'm just soul searching."

"Well, stop, for now. It's almost half past ten, on a Wednesday. Let's just watch TV and ogle at some attractive men, 'kay?"

Kurt sighed but settled in anyway, finishing the last of his food.

Around an hour later, Kurt began to nod off as Rachel ran her fingers through his hair. If it wasn't so therapeutic he would have removed himself long ago.

"I'll find him again. And I'll fix it. Just watch." He muttered almost inaudibly.

"It will work out, sweetie." She responded just as quietly, shaking him until he woke enough to head to bed.


End file.
